


Warlock of the Dead

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Confused Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Dragonlord Merlin (Merlin), Gen, Hurt, Lancelot (Merlin) Lives, Magic Revealed, Protective Arthur, Protective Knights (Merlin), Redeemed Morgana (Merlin), Resurrection, Screw Destiny, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25858435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin's had enough of Destiny, and decides to handle the Dorocha his way.
Relationships: Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 768
Collections: Numerous OTPS Infinite Fandoms





	1. Dorocha

The Castle ruins would not save them. Merlin knew that, knew that the Dorocha would end up killing them. If his Magic was useless… No. Something wasn’t making sense, this couldn’t be it. If Morgana had torn the Veil, if this was genuinely why they were attacking, then he had to be able to stop this. He was not a sorcerer, he was a Warlock. A creature born of Magic, and he would defeat the creatures.

‘It’s not long till nightfall. Pair off, get enough wood to last the night.’ Merlin grabbed Lancelot’s arm before Arthur could call for him, dragged the Knight in the direction of the Castle. Nobody paid them much attention, why would they? He was a manservant that was currently useless, as Lancelot had reminded him earlier.

‘Merlin? What are we…’

‘I can’t leave them to die. I… There’s got to be a way.’ Merlin moved them further into the ruins. Lancelot didn’t question him, a friend that Merlin didn’t deserve. The Knight was sworn to protect Camelot, but Merlin was sworn to protect Arthur and the Knights, and he would do just that. He moved through the ruins, knowing that he would need space if he was truly going to do this.

‘Not that I doubt you, but the sun’s almost set.’ Lancelot spoke up once they had walked far from the group, and Merlin nodded his head. The space was big enough, so he looked to the sky.

 _‘Drakon!’_ The words spilled from his lips, easy and familiar in the same way his Magic settled to his skin. It did not take long for the Dragon to appear, Lancelot reaching for his sword, but Merlin shook his head.

‘It’s alright. He’s with us.’ Kilgharrah landed, eyeing up Lancelot curiously.

‘Who’s your friend?’

‘I’m Lancelot.’ The Knight offered, and Merlin watched Kilgharrah’s eyes flicker with curiosity.

‘The most brave and noble of them all.’ The Dragon mused, a foretelling if ever Merlin had heard one, and he felt his temper snap.

‘No.’ He interrupted, before Lancelot could deny it himself.

‘No?’ Kilgharrah questioned, and Merlin took a step closer.

‘Enough of the riddles. Teach me to defeat the Dorocha.’

‘They cannot be defeated by the Magic of a sorcerer…’ He knew that. He knew the Veil had to be repaired, but he had a plan for that, involving the same Witch that dared to open it.

‘I’m not a Sorcerer.’ Merlin snapped back, uncaring if he was being rude to his kin. With night approaching, he needed the solution. Kilgharrah paused, just momentarily, before he settled back.

‘There is a way,’ His tone was the one that implied a struggle was ahead, that Merlin would not like what was going to happen.

‘Tell me.’ He demanded, and his kin lowered his head. Merlin understood, moved to raise his hand to Kilgharrah’s scales.

‘See what I see, young Warlock.’ Kilgharrah rumbled out, and Merlin let the vision overtake him.

**

‘You want me to do what?’ Lancelot snapped, but Merlin was ignoring him. Already, the plan was taking shape. Kilgharrah was gone, and the darkness had come. Soon, the Dorocha would appear, and Merlin would have his chance to change Destiny. To stop Arthur’s demise, that he had seen just moments before.

‘I want you to let one of the Dorocha’s get me.’ Merlin repeated, staring at the torch Lancelot was holding. It would be enough to keep him safe, and then they would be able to get back to the camp. The others would manage, and Merlin would only be…

‘Merlin…’

‘I won’t die. Well, I will, but I’ll come back.’ He knew, deep down, that this was his choice. The plan was complicated, plus there was a little bit of betrayal added in, but this was his Destiny. To save Arthur, to keep the Knights and Albion safe.

Lancelot gripped his arm, drawing them both to a halt. The Knight looked pained, eyes wide and the fear in his eyes evident, but Merlin just placed a hand over his.

‘I need to do this, Lance. If we get to the Isle of the Blessed, Arthur’s going to sacrifice himself. I won’t let him.’

‘So you’re going to take his place?’ Lancelot presumed, and Merlin had to be careful how he worded this.

‘I won’t have to. I’m going to command the Veil to listen to me.’ That stopped the Knight in his protests, Lancelot staring at him with confusion. Merlin tried for a smile, even if he knew it came out slightly shakily.

Lancelot was his friend. All the Knights were, and that was why this was so much harder.

‘Lance, please. Trust me.’ Already, he could hear them. The dead, calling out as they began to surround them. Lancelot’s hand was shaking, even as Merlin pulled back from it, away from the torchlight.

‘Merlin…’

‘I’ll be okay.’ He whispered, refusing to break eye-contact even when he heard the Dorocha screech. Lancelot’s mouth dropped, his hand tightening around the torch, but he did not move forward.

Something cold rushed over him, and Merlin’s world went black. The last thing he saw was Lancelot’s gaze on him, the terror in his eyes.

**

Lancelot had watched the Knights fall apart, all because Merlin was cold to the touch. Lancelot could see them staring at him, felt the eyes that glared at the fact he had failed to keep Merlin safe. Arthur point-blank refused to look in his direction, only occasionally glancing to where Merlin was curled up in Gwaine’s arms. The Knight was seated, Merlin wrapped in a blanket on his lap.

‘We have to get him back to Camelot.’ Arthur ordered, holding the torch to the dark.

‘Sire…’ Lancelot began, wincing when several faces turned to him in anger. Brothers, they may be, but this was Merlin. They were all fiercely protective over him, just as Lancelot was. Did they not see how much it hurt him, to know this was his fault? To watch Merlin pitch forwards, eyes going cold as the Dorocha moved through him.

‘He’s alive. Which should be impossible in itself. We should keep Merlin with us.’ His idea brought looks of hatred, utter confusion as to why they would drag an injured soldier with them. But Lancelot had promised Merlin he would get them to the Isle of the Blessed, that he would manage to keep them safe until Merlin’s recovery.

‘As much as I hate to admit it, Lance has a point. We can care for Merlin.’ Gwaine’s words didn’t come out of care for Lancelot, but from his affections for Merlin. Never had he seen Gwaine so terrified, than the moment Lancelot carried Merlin’s body back to them.

The Warlock chose that time to groan, lips almost-blue, and Gwaine shushed him gently. Wrapped him up tighter, like he could keep him safe by will alone.

‘Sire, if Merlin rides with Gwaine, we could still make it.’ Leon’s suggestion had Arthur’s head turning, the King observing the two of them, before he bowed his head in submission.

‘And that’s Sir Gwaine to you.’ The Knight joked, then went back to trying to coax Merlin back to life.

**

Lancelot was the first to notice the golden eyes that flicked open, half-way through the next day. He quickly called for a break, dismounting from his horse and moving to Gwaine’s, the Knight looking confused. Still, he was allowed to lift Merlin’s body from the horse, moving him over towards a tree and propping him down.

‘Sir Lancelot?’ Arthur questioned, making to move towards them.

‘Just a potion Gaius gave me before we left, it should aid him.’ The King paused, looking ready to deny him, before he turned away. The other Knights stopped to talk, while Lancelot turned to Merlin.

The gold eyes focused on him vaguely, his lips trying to move.

‘Merlin, your eyes.’ He murmured quietly, cradling his cold face gently. This was his closest friend, was the man that he cared for. As did Guinevere, which was enough to convince him that Merlin was the very best man in Albion.

‘V…veil?’ Merlin croaked, Lancelot raising his waterskin to the man’s lips. He managed a mouthful, before coughing weakly.

‘Do I want to ask?’ Lancelot jumped out of his skin, falling to the side as Gwaine appeared behind him. Merlin reacted to the Knight’s voice, reaching out for Gwaine with a shaking hand, and still-golden eyes.

‘I… we…’

‘Gwaine! Lancelot! We need to move.’ Arthur called, and the Knight turned to look at Gwaine.

Gwaine, who was already scooping Merlin into his arms without hesitation. No questions, none apart from his greeting.

‘If he rides with you, the Princess won’t notice.’ Gwaine muttered under his breath, and Lancelot didn’t doubt the Knight for a moment longer.

**

‘The Isle…’

‘It’s getting dark!’ Merlin could hear vague sounds, blurred shapes as he tried to open his eyes. They were on foot, Gwaine’s arms wrapped around him as they moved towards the Isle of the Blessed. Beneath him, he could feel the Magic running through the earth, the power in his blood rapidly increasing as he healed the Dorocha’s touch.

‘Spirits!’ Elyan shouted, and Merlin was placed down on the floor. The ground was hard under his back, and he didn’t yet have the ability to hold his own head up. It rolled to the side, enough to see the clouds of Dorocha approaching them. The Knights had their torches drawn, where desperately trying to form in a circle around him, and the Warlock groaned.

It was time for his Magic to make an appearance.

Lancelot was bending down to his side, a hand shaking his shoulders gently.

‘Merlin, we’re not going to make it.’ He could tell. Leon vanquished another of the Dorocha, but they would never make it to the ruins in front, not without help. Arthur was desperately trying to order his Knights, to command them to move.

‘T-trust.’ Merlin croaked, forcing his lips to work as his brain finally convinced his limbs to move.

‘Lance…’ The Knight nodded, leaning closer so that Merlin could whisper in his ear.

‘Keep the Pendragon safe.’ Those words, Merlin knew Lancelot would not forget them. That they would be more important than he could ever imagine, once Merlin had completed his bargain.

He rose to his feet, shoving past Leon as one of the Dorocha approached.

‘Merlin!’ Arthur shouted, but the Warlock was prepared.

He had died for this, to absorb the energy and ready himself for the battle.

And with that, Merlin let the fire race from his fingertips.

**

Lancelot breathed out, watching in awe as the fire spread out in front of them. It was incredible, bright blue flames that wrapped around the Knights and provided a wall that the Dorocha hit, screeching as they averted away from them.

‘Go! Go, towards the Veil!’ Merlin screamed, looking back to them with golden eyes. Lancelot nodded his head, gripped Arthur’s armour and pushed him away from the Warlock. The King stumbled, but quickly got back onboard, running towards the building.

The fire followed them, all the way into the ruined Temple. Outside, the sound of the spirits got louder, but they couldn’t breach Merlin’s Magic.

The Veil was just as terrifying as Lancelot had imagined. A tear in the worlds, a dark black that chilled him right to the core.

Arthur took a step forward, but this was where Lancelot came in. He gripped the King’s armour once more, hauled him back.

‘No! You don’t need to make this sacrifice!’ He shouted, uncaring that this was his sovereign.

Above, a roar sounded, the unmistakeable noise of wings taking over the Dorocha’s cries.

The Dragon was back.

**

Merlin moved into the Temple, the fire wrapped around his body like a second skin. Kilgharrah had landed, Lancelot only just managing to convince the Knights not to attack.

When they noticed him, he saw their fear. It made his stomach ache, made him want to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

He didn’t. He walked to Kilgharrah, who lowered his head slowly, before his foot revealed the prize he had gone to collect.

Morgana was unconscious, blood splattered from a wound on the side of her head, but otherwise unharmed. Merlin lifted her carefully, the fire moving around her but not burning, even as Arthur whispered her name.

This was his Destiny, to protect Arthur.

‘Merlin!’ Arthur called, the sound breaking his heart. He turned away from the King with what he hoped was an apologetic look, moved towards the altar that stood in the centre. Morgana’s weight was light, hardly difficult to lay down on the stone slab, a quick spell to bind her keeping her in place.

‘Cailleach! Goddess of the Veil, I command you to come forward!’ Above, thunder rumbled as the clouds closed over the sky, Merlin unflinching as the figure appeared.

Arthur was trying to move forward, but Merlin shoved his hand out, pinning them back to the wall. His friends. The ones he’d sworn to protect, using his own Magic against them.

‘Emrys.’ The woman regarded him curiously, then looked down to the waking High Priestess.

‘I ask you to close the Veil, to repair the damage between our worlds.’ The sound of the Dorocha outside was overwhelming, the feeling of ice in his veins making Merlin shudder. The Cailleach took a step around the altar, Merlin copying, like a game of cat and mouse.

He was more than aware of which creature he was.

‘I have waited a long time to meet you, child of the Gods. Son of the Land, Sea and Sky.’ A hand crept out, but Merlin tore himself back, flames licking up dangerously at her approach. She smiled, neither cruel nor kind, just patient.

She was, after all, a Goddess. She had no need to dwell in this realm, had not needed to listen to his pleas.

‘Then, as a fellow immortal, let me heal the Veil.’ Immortal. Merlin had frozen, his blood chilling to nothingness, and yet he had woken. He had died, and absorbed all the power that he could, just so that this deal could be struck.

‘You…’ Morgana murmured, waking slowly. His eyes must be golden, Morgana’s face twisting in horror as she realised.

‘You betray your own kind!’ She screamed, but Merlin silenced her with a spell, returning his attention to the Cailleach.

‘A life, to close the realm.’ She simply said, Merlin looking down to Morgana, then back to the Immortal.

‘Would the last High Priestess be enough?’ Morgana’s eyes widened, before she began to struggle in her bonds. The Cailleach smiled, while the shouting of Arthur grew louder, and Merlin swallowed down his fear.

‘It would be enough. I’d even allow you the honour.’ A knife appeared in her hand, offered out to Merlin. He slowly reached out for it, curled his fingers around the blade as he brought it back.

‘Could I have a moment?’ He didn’t take his eyes off of Morgana, who had tears in her eyes as she struggled to break free from his spell.

‘Morgana…’ Now, it was time to break the rules. He lowered his head to hers, connected their foreheads and pushed the visions into her. The pain, the anguish, the years of service that he had spent running after Arthur.

_Poison. Murder. Destiny. Arthur, the Once and Future King. Albion, united._

All that she had fought for, all Merlin’s pain. He pulled back, leaving just a breath between them, the High Priestess falling still as she realised what he had just shown her.

‘Promise me.’ He murmured, ducking his head so his lips were against her ear. She trembled, trying to reach for him.

‘Don’t…’

‘Promise me, Morgana.’ The Witch’s cheeks were stained with tears, flowing freely now.

‘I promise, Merlin.’ His name, with no anger or hatred, and he drew back.

He looked to Cailleach, then to Morgana, before releasing the bindings that held the Witch down. With that, Merlin had made his decision.

To protect the Pendragons, both of them, and ensure that Albion was united.

He heard Lancelot’s scream, Kilgharrah’s roar as they both realised Merlin was breaking the plan. The Warlock didn’t hesitate, grabbed the Goddess and the dagger, and then dragged them both back into the Veil.

He didn’t have a chance to turn to his King.


	2. Druids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Dorocha incident

Morgana glanced around the clearing briefly, before turning to her four companions. She had been intending to make the trip alone, but they had been quite adamant that they wanted to meet the woman that guarded Merlin’s soul, and so she had brought them along. The Witch moved to the edge of the Lake, bent down to touch the surface lightly.

The touch rippled out, and by the time Morgana had straightened her back, Freya was standing opposite her.

‘High Priestess Morgana, should I be honoured?’ Her voice was ethereal, a beauty that hung around her in a way that was haunting, but the Witch didn’t falter.

‘I come to ask if he died in peace.’ Curiosity had driven Gwaine and Lancelot to her side, both studying the woman like they wanted to reach for her. Freya eyed them warily, like she distrusted the Knights of Camelot. If the rumours of her death were true, she could understand where the fear came from.

‘I do not know the answer to your question. Emrys was lost to this world, the moment he entered the Veil.’ Guinevere gasped from behind her, no doubt Percival was trying to reassure her. It would have been Sir Elyan, but the Knight had remained behind to distract the King, well, almost-King from the fact they had disappeared.

Not everyone in Camelot was happy to see her return. Not even when Arthur informed the Council she had been controlled by Morgause, a lie that tasted bitter in the pit of Morgana’s stomach. Still, she was honouring the Warlock that had saved her, mostly because she felt the pain that he had.

‘But if he died…’

‘His soul did not come to me, my Lady.’ Freya answered, and Morgana fell quiet. This was not the answer she was looking for, nor was it very helpful. In the three weeks since Merlin’s disappearance, she’d tried almost everyone she could think of. Druids, her previous contacts in the ranks of King Lot’s Kingdom, the Saxon army that she had withdrawn her presence from.

‘Then where is he?’ She murmured, turning to look at her companions.

Nobody could answer that question.

**

‘Sire, I understand that your… views on Magic, might not be the same as your Father’s…’

‘I’m not repealing the ban. Simply changing the punishment, you cannot expect people to burn for crimes so innocent?’ Arthur didn’t know how he viewed Magic. His sister was back in the Castle, which should be proof enough that he had to begin to understand it.

In times like this, he needed Merlin.

The ache hadn't faded. Arthur had lost people before, and it hurt every time, but this was different. It burned, a hollow emptiness in his chest that tightened when he thought of his manservant. He was more than aware that Morgana had snuck out of the Kingdom with the woman he was courting, or had been courting, and the Knights. Not that he was going to stop her, because part of him hoped she’d find his manservant.

George had been dismissed. Arthur dressed himself, cleaned his Chambers and dealt with his papers without the usual chatter. He polished his armour, lingering on the sword that Merlin had seemed strangely fond of.

He spoke to his Father rarely, not needing to cause further issues with Morgana.

‘I’ll amend the law, Sire.’ Geoffrey informed him from his position on the Council, waiting for others to object. When nobody did, the next item was brought up for discussion.

There hadn't been a body to burn. In the wreckage of the Dorocha’s attack, Arthur didn’t have a body to burn.

There had been a very angry (supposedly dead) Dragon, that had disappeared the moment the Veil shut. Lancelot had screamed himself hoarse, until he sunk to the floor and fell quiet.

Morgana had looked pale, sitting up on the altar and then turning towards them. He’d been surprised by the tears, but he didn’t question them.

Strange, so many people telling him that he would make a fine King, but it ached when they said it. Perhaps it was because the only person that had told him that, and had genuinely meant it, was dead.

**

‘How many?’

‘Not enough.’ Morgana finished breathlessly, listening to the warning bells as they rang out across Camelot. A siege, not necessarily uncommon, but the Sorcerer-army that had assembled had made light work of the defences.

‘Then get ready.’ Arthur ordered, reaching for his sword and looking to the Council, huddled in the back of the room where they hoped to remain safe. By his side, the Knights of the Round Table and those that hadn't been outside of the doors when they’d been locked.

‘Do I have permission to use my Magic?’ Morgana questioned, her eyes drifting across to where Gaius was tending to the once-King of Camelot. Uther hadn't spoken, was watching them with his usual vacant expression.

‘As long as it’s against them.’ Arthur tried for a joke, but it fell rather flat when they could hear the doors begin to splinter.

‘Guinevere, stay with Gaius.’ She hesitated, lingering by their side before accepting her position, darting across just in time for the door to splinter.

There weren’t many, perhaps only twenty men, but the fact that they had golden eyes didn’t aid the situation. Arthur’s sword was thrown back before he could even hope to attack, Morgana chanting some strange words as a shimmer of golden encased them.

‘A shield? Nice!’ Gwaine called, going for the sword that he’d lost.

Morgana cocked her head to the side, but she didn’t falter in concentration as the sorcerers tried to advance.

Arthur retrieved Excalibur, turned to start a fight that he could control, but the room was being flooded by more people. Robed-people, women and men alike, who filtered in and surrounded the sorcerers. They had markings on their skin, walked through the mess of spells that filled the throne room with nothing more than a calm expression.

Arthur wasn’t sure whose side they were on, and clearly the attackers didn’t know, for they fell quiet and looked to the growing mass of people.

‘Why defend the Pendragon? He killed our kind!’ One Sorcerer shouted, throwing a glare that probably would have killed him, had Morgana’s shield not been around them.

‘We have our orders.’ The Druid, for that was what he had to be, remarked simply.

‘Orders?’ Morgana snapped, taking a step towards the mass of robed people.

‘Our King commands us to keep the Pendragon safe.’ Arthur didn’t know what it meant, but Morgana swayed like she’d been knocked by a gust of wind.

‘Impossible.’ Gaius murmured from behind him, while Arthur demanded that Morgana explain herself.

‘The King himself gave you that order?’ He figured he was missing something very important, from the way Morgana’s eyes lit with excitement and her smile grew.

‘He did. He’s on his way now, he simply had to deal with the lower Village first.’

‘Can somebody explain what’s going on?’ Arthur repeated, and Morgana finally turned to him.

‘Merlin.’

**

Merlin had died. Or, he thought he had, because it was awfully painful. Then, he’d randomly woken up in a pile of horse dung, which actually happened quite often. The dagger was still in his hand, but the Cailleach was gone, so he had to consider himself lucky.

Landing in unfamiliar lands had been terrifying, but he had been recovered by some Druids, who kept asking what had happened to him. He tried to explain that he should be dead, but then they kept repeating his immortality, so he’d decided that was rather pointless to argue about.

They dressed him in their clothes, only they were made of finer silks than he’d expected. They told him that his death had been felt by all Druids, but that they remained hopeful for his return.

When he saw his reflection for the first time, it was to the shock of having gold eyes. Permanent. They didn’t vanish, no matter how hard he tried, and he wondered if he could go back to Camelot like this.

Then came the news of the Sorcerers. Merlin rode out to the Lake, to find Freya, who looked just as surprised as he felt about his new life. She’d welcomed him into the waters, urging him to let it heal any leftover energy from the Veil. When he emerged, the Druids had been gathered around the Lake, awaiting his instructions.

‘Protect the King.’

The sorcerers may have done damage to the lower town, but Merlin didn’t have to struggle to heal it. His Magic crept out without his permission, rebuilding structures and healing those with injuries, travelling like a wave over the citizens of Camelot. They recognised him, of that there was no doubt, yet they didn’t fear him. The Knights that had survived studied him curiously, watched as one man moved up to the Castle and stared at the steps.

He would save Arthur, because the man was clearly an idiot that couldn’t look after himself, but would he have to leave? His eyes showed his heritage, and Camelot’s rules were clear.

The Castle was rather quiet, a few injures Knights that he stopped to heal, before approaching the throne room.

‘My Lord? What do you suggest?’ It was a young Knight, Sir Jay, if Merlin remembered correctly. He didn’t ask why he was being addressed as such, clearly the Druids had named him their King.

‘Go to your King.’

The doors opened rather dramatically, and Merlin observed the situation he faced. His people had done their job, surrounding those that posed a threat to Arthur. The King was by his throne, and Merlin briefly noted that Morgana’s Magic was filling the room. Uther was present, as was his Uncle, and Merlin fought the grin that threatened to break through.

‘You’re… dead.’ One of the Sorcerers remarked, so clearly word of his death had spread.

‘It didn’t stick.’ Merlin cheerfully provided, fingers drifting to the knife at his belt. Cailleach’s knife, the one that had stayed with him while he was burned alive by the Veil.

‘I suggest you leave, otherwise there’s going to be a fight, and you’re severely outnumbered.’ Merlin then stepped away from the door, watched as the Sorcerer-army decided that they clearly were outmatched in this fight. They ran, quicker than Merlin had expected, barrelling past the Knights that Merlin had healed.

‘Merlin.’ Arthur moved past his sister, no fear of her Magic, and looked at him like he was seeing a ghost.

Well, Merlin supposed, he was.

‘Surprise?’ 


End file.
